The For-Now Untitled Story About Things Amongst Other Things
by Nymphanora
Summary: Everyone has a dream- whether they care to admit it or not. **SS/HG, post-Hogwarts, ignores positive outcome of final battle, M for occasional language and graphic violence, sexual implications sans details.**
1. i

**Author's Note:**

_I do not claim the rights to any lyrics used in this story, all of which will be bolded and italicized at the forefront of each chapter- they come from the song "I Dreamed a Dream" from Les Miserables. A few are omitted for lack of being able to work them into chapters, but those remain the only changes I have made._

_Essentially, until I state otherwise in another Author's Note, every chapter of this story is a memory. Italicizing them would make sense on the surface, but italicizing an entire chapter seems ridiculous and there are other bits in the chapters that are italicized so then there'd be formatting issues._

_Any italics- aside from ones clearly in place to denote inflections in speech- in any chapter of this story are either brief (as in momentary) flashbacks to a single quote or are Hermione's own thoughts. I believe that there should be no issues with distinguishing the two._

**_I dreamed a dream in time gone by___****  
****_When hope was high___****  
****_And life worth living_**

The four of them sat in respective seats around the decaying and seemingly permanently-damp table. Hermione kicked the balls of her feet back and forth over the dusty ground and tapped a finger against her cheek anxiously. They had combined their four separate pieces of parchment- each the result of days' work of mapping out one of the four quadrants of their surrounding area.

Hers, naturally, filled her sheet the most and had as many meticulously drawn branches off of the main path as humanly possible. She had worked hard on that stupid map- stayed up until five in the morning to polish it off last night, even. She was damn proud of her work.

The only other quarter of much use was Severus'. While he had not wasted time detailing as many spindly trails as she, his map was otherwise equally as well-organized and provided everything necessary to them and then some. He sat with his chin perched on two knuckles, alternating between looking in disbelief at the other half of their map and shooting vicious glances at Harry and Ron.

Hermione was on him as soon as his mouth opened.

"Mind your tongue, Severus," she mumbled, tracing the patterns of the table with a fingernail.

"Don't tell me what to do_, Granger."_

Ron's fist slammed down on the table, drawing a grin of pity from Hermione. So easily worked up.

"I don't get how I'm supposed to deal with this disgusting. . . _thing _you two have-"

Severus snarled at this. Hermione rolled her eyes and glanced at Harry, who was sitting back in his chair looking very much like he'd rather be under the table than above it.

"-going on when you won't even treat her like you give two rats' arses."

"ENOUGH, WEASLEY," their former professor was bellowing now, drawing himself up from his chair to stand at his full height and glaring daggers at Ron.

"Need I _remind _you," he spat, nostrils flaring in indignation, "who slunk around in the corners of Hogwarts with a girl a thousand times less than the one sitting across from you? Who knew of her emotions towards you but chose to discard them because they did not, at the time, suit you? Do not talk to me about respect for this woman, Weasley."

Severus dropped back into his seat, looking very much like a man who had just drank a concoction of vinegar, lemon juice, and Skele-Gro. Ron, on the other hand, stared down at the table like Hermione. Mortification was painted on his face clear as day, and Hermione had to admit it served him right.

The room remained eerily silent for another few minutes. On more than one occasion she was tempted to break it, but she decided it was best to let things work themselves out. Looking back at the map, however, caused her to let out a snort.

Harry had at least exerted a fair amount of effort on his portion, and for that she was thankful. It was on the same scale as hers and Severus' and it really did contain everything crucial- the river, the larger outcroppings where animals and edible vegetation were likely to be found, everything but _the main trail._

Ron's piece, on the other hand, was a beast of its own.

His general artistic skill in and of itself was lacking, the lines of what little he had drawn were shaky and smudged; he, too, had forgotten to draw in the main trail, arguing that it was simple enough for one to follow it and he hadn't seen it necessary; as opposed to labeling useful areas such as the other three, he had chosen quite possibly the oddest landmarks to jot down- a large grouping of rocks amongst them; he had also managed to sketch in a scale ten times larger than what anyone else had.

Hermione decided she was done when she heard Severus' breathing grow more clipped again. With a small huff she grabbed her wand off of the table, glaring briefly at both Severus and Ron before speaking.

"Accio platter."

Harry looked at her skeptically and laughed as a serving tray zoomed into the room to rest on the table in front of Hermione.

Firewhisky? Check. Glasses? Check. Her sanity? About to return.

"I figured we'd need them," she offered with a shrug, a light steam rising briefly from each glass as she filled them with the Firewhisky. She slid the glasses across the table to each of her companions, giving her own a light swish and eyeing the others carefully.

"Nobody drinks until we settle this," she said smoothly, crossing her legs as she settled back into her chair, "and we've all got the entire day. So it's up to you."

They sat there in uncomfortable silence for some extended period of time that Hermione stopped keeping track of after a point, her mind drifting back to the previous day. Severus had been keeping her company while she worked out the final kinks of her map, things occasionally leading into other things and those things leading into even better—

"-rmione. _ . ._ _Hermione. _HERMIONE."

She was brought out of her reverie by a kick to her shin from Harry. Looking around quickly, she was surprised when what she saw lacked glares of hatred. Ron, though still looking humiliated, had lost the edge to his attitude and Severus had busied himself with swirling his Firewhisky in his glass.

Hermione raised her eyebrows and surveyed her company for a moment longer before raising her glass. Since Harry had been watching her prior, he reciprocated the action quickly. Within a few seconds four glasses of alcohol were raised. Clearing her throat quickly, Hermione started speaking.

"I know that not all of us are entirely inclined to. . . get along, as it were. Tensions are already bound to run high taking into account things none of us can control and being holed up here in a cabin together isn't exactly what one could call an asset. The map is a rough patch and I see no reason not to treat it like all the others we've had thus far in the sense that we will work through it and treat the issue accordingly."

She took a breath to steady her voice and stood before continuing. Having all eyes trained on her was uncomfortable for Hermione, but she felt it her responsibility to deal with the current issue.

"Ronald, you made a mistake- there isn't any way around that. However, everyone makes mistakes and luckily this is one that's easily fixed with a little extra time. We all know that you aren't the brains of this operation, but I don't want you to feel as though that mitigates your role in the situation. Your intentions are good and your humor is always more than needed. You've been one of my best friends for eight years and one minor screw-up isn't going to make me think any less of you.

"Harry, you've stood with me for eight years as well and I'm extremely proud to have you as such a close friend to me. On some occasions you've been forced to play_ my _part and you've always done so marvelously. Your dedication to us and to the Light is admirable and I could not be happier with you for that. We all know that you are capable of doing what you have to in this fight, and thank you kindly for that."

Hermione inclined her head to each of the boys in turn before angling herself towards the greasy-haired wizard to the side of her.

"Severus, you have come to mean so very much to me. Though the three of us were too naïve at one point to know, you have remained as firmly on our side as any one person could- even through the trials and tribulations of playing a double-agent. Thank you, genuinely, for making strides to learn to put up with two people you thought you never could and for opening yourself to be so close with myself. It means the world to me."

The witch stood with bated breath, waiting on tenterhooks for some sort of response from anyone in the room.

And then suddenly the other three were standing as well, the sound of four glasses meeting each other ringing throughout the room. Firewhisky was downed and smiles were had and Severus circled around the table, his arms snaking around her waist. Ron appeared to be fighting back a look of distaste, and Hermione would have been lying had she said she wasn't proud of him for succeeding.

Harry, too, strode over to Hermione, clapping her on the arm before pulling it to him in an awkward quasi-hug.

"We'll be able to get through this, Hermione, you're right. I'm sure we can fix the map before unwanted company finds us. Hell, I'm sure that we can fix everything- even though that might be _after_ unwanted company finds us."

Ron barked out a laugh and dropped back into his chair, kicking his legs up onto the table abruptly.

"He basically means, 'everything is going to turn out just fine, so stop being a sap', Hermione."


	2. ii

_**Then I was young and unafraid**_  
_**And dreams were made and used and wasted**_

The fire Severus had conjured for them licked at the marshmallow Ron had poised above it. They really shouldn't have gone into the general public, even in muggle society, but Ron's confusion at the entire concept of roasting the gooey confections had been enough to convince Hermione that one foray into the big bad world was acceptable.

It had, as she predicted, been worth it. While there were several discarded marshmallows charred and smoking tossed to the side of the trio, Ron had also managed to achieve a few mildly safe-looking globs of brown and white for himself. Harry sat beside his best friend, combing through the muggle newspaper they'd snagged from the trash bin inside of the store. It wasn't nearly as helpful as a wizarding one would have been, but it was extremely clear which happenings were caused by the sorts of things muggles would never understand.

Amongst the headlines of "So-and-So Overdoses (Again!)" and "This or That Basketball Team Current Favorites" were nestled far more sinister things. She found it insane that muggles didn't even bat an eye as to what could be causing "Mysterious Disappearances- Man, Wife, Children (7 & 9) Missing" or who was behind the "Rising Arsons in Middle-Class Neighborhoods."

"Fire, Weasley."

The drawled quip came from behind Hermione and she laughed as she watched Ron's current marshmallow go up in miniature flames. He cursed it to one of Merlin's body parts and flung the stick it was stuck on back over his head, sending the thing flying into the wall behind him.

"Here, Ronald," she slid herself closer to the fire, taking up one of the three remaining sticks on the ground and spearing a marshmallow quickly. Hermione gave Ron an encouraging nod, arching an eyebrow in amusement as he smashed his over the stick and down a few inches.

Hermione raised her arm, leaving several inches between the fire and the glob of sugar and turning it at her leisure. Ron, slightly less patient, held his further down, but this time managed to keep the thing from bursting into flame. Having roasted many-a-marshmallow in her younger days and having always found her high and slow method effective, she knew she had time to spare before she had to pay her dessert much attention.

She let her gaze wander around the room a few times, trying not to turn her head- far too obvious, in her opinion. Eventually, though, staring at the wall became just as obvious as staring at the man she wanted to- at that point she figured she might as well stop making attempts at being sly.

She was pleasantly surprised to find his eyes already trained on her back, a smirk worthy of the man himself coming to light on her lips. He had been seated in his corner nearly all day pouring over any and every book she and him had decided might be of use. There were books stacked as high as the top of his head on either side of him and it was one of the rare occasions on which he had finally shed his heavy robes.

". . .think that might be kind of hard.?"

". . .Hermione helping it probably. . ."

"How are we even supposed. . ."

She listened absentmindedly to bits and pieces of the conversation occurring in front of her, giving Severus a coquettish grin before pulling her stick from above the fire.

"Do you think we'd be able. . ."

". . .with those two I think we can do. . ."

"Hah."

Hermione dropped her arm behind herself, extending the marshmallow to Severus. He snorted before sliding it off of the stick between his thumb and forefinger.

"Are you sure I should eat this, Granger? It has the potential to ruin my perfectly sculpted physique."

Ron guffawed and buckled forward, vaulting his marshmallow into the fire. Hermione shook her head and gave him a smile, letting her stick fall to the floor and scooting herself back to join Severus amongst his books.

"So," began Harry, trying to pick out what was salvageable from the inside of one of Ron's very first attempts at a marshmallow, "how long d'you reckon until one of the Death Eaters decides to show their ugly faces?"

"Any day now, Potter," Severus said from behind pages that smelled of dust and mildew.

"Think so? They all seem to be a fair ways away. . ."

"That doesn't mean that it isn't li-"

"Shut up, would you?" shot Ron, startling the rest of them into looking up.

"I don't want to talk about all this negative stuff until it's right here in our faces. There's enough bad things going on everywhere all the time and I hate that all you guys want to do is sit around with your noses shoved into books talking about how we all might die. We never talk about the _good_ things anymore."

Severus growled into the spine of his book, burying his face in it further in what was seemingly an effort to tune out of whatever positive discussion was looming.

"Hermione, what do you want to do when we get out of here?" Ron inquired.

Hermione didn't even have to think the question over.

"I want to find some place in Diagon Alley, once it's fixed back up, and start up a bookshop. I would be equally as thrilled to take over Flourish and Blotts, though- I was offered some small job there to take when I got out of school but clearly that'll have to be delayed by quite some time. Still, there's something that sounds much more satisfying about getting a place running from the ground up.

"Other than that I think I'd just like to finally be able to settle down in one place and stay there. Even during our Hogwarts years, though the moving wasn't so sinister, we were constantly being shuttled back and forth between home and school. I can't wait to just be able to stay in one place at my leisure."

Harry smiled as he finished off the last of Ron's burnt marshmallows.

"Now that you mention it, I'm looking forward to that too, Hermione- running around saving the world gets pretty tiring after a bit. You all know I want to be an auror, though. Just because we'll have done Voldemort in doesn't mean there won't still be other stuff to take care of; and, not to piss Ron off or anything," he cautioned with a sideways glance to his best friend, "but I'm also really looking forward to getting things right with Ginny."

Ron, as was becoming increasingly common, seemed to genuinely have to bite his tongue to keep from spewing words as disgusting as the face he was pulling. He gave a stiff- if not entirely skeeved-out- nod before starting to speak himself.

"I really wanna get into the Chudley Cannons," he mumbled, the flush in his skin clashing with his hair, "I know I'm a rubbish player but I figure maybe if I train up a bit with Fred and George or something I might have a shot. Besides that, I haven't really got extra plans- I guess I don't care so long as I don't end up stuck in some job that eventually goes bad like my dad's."

Hermione grinned, thinking it best to hold her tongue regarding the likeliness of Ron making _any_ professional Quidditch team- even a subpar one. What was wrong with dreams, anyway? Some peoples' were unattainable and that was alright. Just because she enjoyed realism didn't mean everybody else had to.

"What about you, Snape?" Harry added, clearly as an afterthought.

Another low growl from behind the ancient book.

"What _about _me, Potter?"

Harry, surprisingly, pushed on.

"What do you want to do with yourself once we're out of this mess?"

Ron's eyes narrowed and Hermione shot him a look over the top of the book she had taken up and started to rifle through.

"Perhaps I ought to keep my plans to myself. Is that not why they're called _my _plans? Your red panda over there doesn't much look as though he could stomach them, anyway."

"Severus," Hermione warned, giving him an elbow to the ribs followed by a paradoxical kiss to the cheek before resuming her spot beside the fire. She tactfully ignored the nudge to her tailbone, pulling her knees up as a makeshift armrest.

The room gradually became home to a comfortable silence save for the cracking of the fire.

"I'm not afraid of them," Ron blurted after a time, his voice cracking ever so slightly in spite of himself.

"Of whom?"

Always growling, Hermione thought.

"Any of them. The Death Eaters, the Ministry, anyone," Ron countered quickly.

Hermione smiled.

"I'm not either," she threw out after some thought. It was true- the situation could have been better, but didn't good always come out on top in the end? The world wasn't perfect, and sometimes the bad was going to be on the victorious side for a period of time, but good was always the end result.

She was _mostly _partial to realism, she was now realizing.

Good enough.

Harry grinned but kept quiet, pulling the torn-along-the-edges newspaper back into his lap and starting to pick and choose articles of interest again.

"You should be."

Severus' voice was soft, his words clearly meant for Hermione's ears alone.

She turned her head again, looking the wizard up and down and giving a pitiful sigh.

He was right- they probably should have been scared. Three kids lacking the most important year of their education and a man seemingly gaining a year in age every minute, all with rising prices on their heads, were what they had as their driving force. How was that to be expected to even come near equaling an army hundreds- if not thousands- strong?

Hermione wasn't terrified in the least and she knew that Ron and Harry weren't apprehensive either.

They should have been, but they weren't. And that was all that mattered.


	3. iii

**But the tigers come at night**  
**With their voices soft as thunder**

Weeks had passed without sign of the Death Eaters, each day becoming more taxing than the one prior to it. Being on watch for something abstract and omnipresent, yet never quite _there,_ was complicated- tensions had shot higher than they were previously. Ron and Severus were now fighting nearly constantly; sometimes, when they thought Hermione was sleeping, the arguments turned to her. That was always uncomfortable, if she knew anything about the word. Having her teenage sweetheart (who, conveniently enough, was an arse of one) and her current one- nearly twenty years her senior- fight about what was best for _her _was starting to drive her up the wall.

Some days, it was sending her home that made the most sense; others it was leaving her here while they moved on; most of the time, though, the apparent solution- according to Ron- was for Severus to shove his own foot up unmentionable areas.

Tonight was one of those nights. She lay on her back, hands folded over her stomach and gaze cast to the ceiling. She narrowed her eyes as the level of the voices coming from the other room rose.

". . .nothing but a schoolboy. . ."

". . .least I'm not an old man. . ."

". . .don't know what the woman nee-"

"MERLIN'S ARSE I DON'T KNOW WHAT SHE NEEDS, SNAPE. I'VE BEEN HER BEST FRIEND FOR EIGHT YEARS."

"AND WHERE WERE YOU FOR THE MONTHS YOU LEFT HER AND POTTER TO DIE, _WEASLEY_?"

Silence.

Hermione had to crane her neck and focus to hear what came next. The men had come closer to the door of her room but Severus' voice had lowered by more than just several octaves.

"You keep clear of her. I bore witness to the ways in which she looked at you in the halls of Hogwarts; and after having excessive time to ponder your reciprocation, or lack thereof, I refuse to further tolerate your passive-aggressive advances. You will not speak _down _to me regarding her. You were presented with your opportunity, Weasley. Learn to live with your mistakes before you render yourself an even greater ignoramus than I previously believed you to be. Have I made myself clear?"

Ron grunted, though Hermione couldn't tell whether he thought greater acknowledgement would be a waste or if he was incapable of speech. She let her eyes close, relishing the self-created darkness in contrast to the pitch black of her room. There were several moments before she heard Ron's telltale shuffling footsteps heading across their cabin.

Something was missing, though.

Severus.

While his footsteps were exceptionally quiet- that had always been nerve-wracking in the trio's school days- one could usually pick up on the sound of him drawing his robes about himself if they knew to listen. It was odd, then, that she hadn't heard a thing.

Hermione bit her lip, contemplating the idea of staying still but finding herself drawn out of bed by curiosity. Tiptoeing as quietly as she could through the dark, she felt her way along the bare walls to the door. She pressed an ear to the wood, continuing to chew at the inside of her lip as she waited for some sort of an anything from outside of it.

Inadvertently, she let out a sigh. Not half a second later the knob was turning beneath her fingers and she scarcely had time to back away from the door before Severus swept in, kicking the thing shut behind him with a heel. He flicked his wand and the room was suddenly illuminated, causing Hermione's eyes to scream in protest as she continued to back away from the door.

"Granger."

"Sev- Sever-"

"Adult women," he growled, "should be aware that it isn't prudent to eavesdrop."

Hermione glared at him from her seat on her bed, having falling back on it at some point when the wizard entered the room.

"Adult men," she countered, "should not have to speak down to younger ones in order to feel secure in a relationship."

Severus froze for a moment, his eyes traveling down Hermione's frame.

Hermione started.

"I hardly think now is the time t-"

"Shut your mouth," the wizard hissed.

Always one to shut her mouth in "her own way", as she dubbed it, Hermione's lips parted.

Before she could get another word in edgewise there was a calloused palm pressed to her mouth. The witch let out a squeak of indignation at the mere notion of Severus even _considering_ any sort of taboo sex game at this point.

His head inclined nearly imperceptibly towards the window, and she cocked her own in confusion for a moment before she heard what he must have as well.

Footsteps.

Outside.

Her muscles locked and her eyes would not close regardless of desperately she willed them to. Not trusting herself to cling to calmness with them resting anywhere else, she stared up at her former professor and waited.

_"Once a swot always a swot," _her mind chanted. It was true, to an extent. Here they were, far beyond Hogwarts grounds, and her first instinct was to look to the Potions master for instructions.

The two of them waited with bated breath, each secretly willing the sound to have been imagined. Hermione knew that Severus was undoubtedly making quick calculations in his head of what needed to be done by whom and when, but her own conscious was currently too weighed down with anxiety to piece much together. Just as he allowed his hand to lower from its position and he drew breath to speak, the clouds obscuring the moon gave way to allow small flickers of light into the room.

Breaking glass.

Hermione loathed when Ronald and Severus fought, but at that moment she realized that she would've much rather heard the taunting words from him than the man outside.

"Well if it isn't the greasy traitor 'imself!"


	4. iv

**As they tear your hope apart**  
**As they turn your dream to shame**

_"Run. Run and don't look back."_

Over and over and over again she screamed to herself that crucial phrase.

Run and ignore the fragments of tree roots lodging themselves in your hair; run and ignore the god-forsaken blasts of light and sounds of fear and breaking bones; run and ignore the acrid stench of burning flesh and ignore the high-pitched screeches of woodland rodents being trodden on and inadvertently kicked through their own homes.

Just _run, _Hermione.

She flung her right hand behind her, flicking and twisting it wildly as she ran and fighting not to let it throw her off-balance. It was becoming hard to discern the noises coming from behind her- who was Dark and who was Light, who was friend and who was foe. She hoped with every fiber of her being that the only screams resulting from her handiwork came from the mouths of those who were evil, but there was no time to check and no time to worry.

Tired. So tired.

The blasts were getting closer and the light provided by the moon was tantamount to useless as it shattered into a million too-small beams through branches and leaves. She could feel the stitch in her side pounding against her ribcage like an angry animal and growing with each heavy push her feet worked out of her body. The night air was cold and it stung to breathe- it stung to even ponder the _concept_ of breathing in what had to have been molecular shards of crushed icicles and hopelessness.

A shock of black hair.

In hindsight, that hair shouldn't have been visible to her. Hermione would never be able to lie to herself- the only things she had to thank for that last look at Harry Potter's mess of hair in the color of tar were the very jets of light that wrenched it away from her.

She had felt his hand grip at her arm- she had felt him using her as a reason to keep his sprints even with the rest of theirs. How could Harry Potter ever be the reason for the setback of one of his best friends? Yes, it made sense in the most Griffyndor way anything could.

How paradoxical. The spats of red and of green screamed "Christmas lights" to her subconscious- and weren't those supposed to be the embodiment of happiness? Her mind was practically begging her to succumb to the nonexistent joy and ignore the absolute nothing welling up inside of her.

She wanted to scream. Hermione wanted to scream to the cold night for her friend and for the past eight years of her life and for her happiness and no matter how hard she tried the sound wouldn't leave her body.

It was over. Without Harry, there was no winning the war. They could try with all their might to rile up enough of a force to do in Voldemort but her best friend had taken too many secrets with him into death for there to be hope. Everything that they had worked for- all of their sleepless nights and unfounded arguments and every time the strings between their newly-formed quartet had been pulled too tightly- was worthless now.

_"I'm going to keep going until I succeed—or I die. Don't think I don't know how this might end. I've known it for years."_

She had seen how difficult it had been for Harry to see a man so resembling Dumbledore be his polar opposite; however, she had marveled at his courage in calmly stating that he knew his death was such a realistic concept.

_Visiting his parents' graves._

_Talking about Ron and Lavender._

_Hogwarts. Feasts. Common room. Classes. Hagrid. Ron. Hogsmead. Grimmauld Place. The Burrow._

_Happy. Sad. Funny. Love. Heartbreak. Stupid teenage angst. Saving the world._

_Everywhere._

_Everything._

_Being best friends._

_"I don't go looking for trouble. Trouble usually finds me"_

Oh God, how true that was.

"Run."

The voice was not that of her own inner monologue. His breathing sounded as though he was inhaling air thicker than she and his voice cracked on the single word alone. Severus Snape should not have been running with them through that cold winter's night, everything about what she heard from him in one word told her that.

He must have sensed her pace breaking and her resolve freezing up as rigidly as her muscles were starting to. Green streaked past her ear, catching a strand of her hair and making short work of singing it. Hermione shook her head and that was all it took for reality to sink in.

Her legs buckled and the sob finally wrenched itself from her throat; her head was spinning from exhaustion and lack of nutrition and stress and two million other things; she didn't attempt to brace herself in anticipation for the ground that never came, but instead she hoped the impact might wake her from some sort of dream.

She barreled into him. He had clearly anticipated it.

"HARRY!"

She heard Ron trip several meters back and she heard his sob come sooner than hers had. Good. At least he had some sort of reprieve. At least he wouldn't for the rest of his life- if he even got one- feel guilty for lacking a reaction to the death of his best friend.

So much spinning.

The last thing she felt in the forest were arms wrapping around her and her own fingers twisting into and pulling at thick black robes that looked like night- that smelled like potion stoppers and home-brewed aftershave and adrenaline and the only person she would've wanted to take her away now.

After being squeezed through the invisible tube that apparation seemed to put one through, Hermione found herself swaying on her feet in her former professor's arms. She remained like that, seemingly suspended in her quiet sobs and her labored breathing before she felt something break further.

She was angry. So angry.

And then she was hitting him.

She was hitting the man she loved with all her heart and she wasn't entirely sure why because if anything it only made her feel worse.

She was hitting the man she loved with all her heart and her best friend had just been killed by the very force he had promised to her they would defeat.

She was hitting the man she loved with all her heart and the third point of the golden trio was still in that forest in the middle of nowhere and she didn't even know if he had lived to consider all of the things she was now.

Screaming. That's what she was doing.

Her fists pounded against Severus' chest and she could feel his bones straining against his skin and she was causing her own ears to ring with the sounds she was omitting.

"TAKE ME BACK. DO YOU EXPECT ME TO JUST _LEAVE HIM THERE? _SEVERUS HE'S DEAD. HE'S DEAD AND HE'S GONE AND HE'S NEVER COMING BACK AND HE-"

Her voice trembled in time with her body and worked its way back to sobs, her fists once again coming to a rest curled into Severus' robes. She felt him bury his face in her hair despite the debris currently littering it- felt his own body rhythmically tense and then revert itself to normal.

And then she heard the wizard speak for the first and last time that night.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione."

She didn't know how long they stood there, her weight mostly supported by him and her cries coming louder at some points than others. All she knew was that Harry Potter was dead and that she couldn't even remember the last words she had said to him.


	5. v

**He slept a summer by my side**

Hermione's eyes flitted open, her vision slightly obscured by what was probably a lone dangling eyelash and her own sleepiness.

Thin lips pressed to her one exposed cheek before ghosting up her jaw, coming to rest against the shell of her ear. Her own lips curled into a grin as she wound her legs around his and ran a finger along the rusted and brittle staircase that was the older wizard's ribcage.

"Sever-"

"I didn't mean to wake you," he murmured smoothly, cutting her off with the same ease as his words rolled off of his tongue. He planted an extra kiss on her jaw for good measure before pulling back from her enough that the placement of his lips wouldn't be leading her mind towards things certainly not conducive to sleep.

"You didn't," she protested, her words slurred by tiredness and her eyes falling ever closer to shut, "At least you weren't the primary cause."

He arched an eyebrow at this and she giggled at the select few graying hairs hidden between the black ones. Severus countered with a snort of acknowledgement.

"I mean. I suppose you were. But-"

"Exactly."

Stars peppered the night sky beyond their room; the curtains blew at a comfortable pace with the temperate breeze, summer and hints of residual tanning oil detectable in the air being pushed into the room; her skin was soft and his was not and one thin sheet seemed insistent on keeping his from roughing up hers or hers from melting into his.

"Would you please let me fini-"

"No," one side of his mouth twisted into a mocking smile, the word uttered with a simultaneous running of his left index finger over the outline of her lips.

Hermione made an attempt at pushing her lower lip out into a pout. It must have looked beyond silly, but at that hour that was the last thing she possibly had a care in the world about. She was no Lavender Brown or Fleur Delacour and that was a fairly obvious fact.

Almost as obvious as the fact that _Hermione Granger could not pout._

"You just hate me even being here, obviously. Clearly y-"

"Stupid little girl," he spoke silkily now, just as her eyelids finally resigned themselves to lowering fully. She could hear that his words came through a smirk and that pulled another grin to her lips- that and one of his dragging palms coming to rest just short of where she wouldn't much mind one at that moment.

It was Hermione's turn to snort now, though. She fought back her body's pleas to utter words of encouragement. And to yawn.

"If I can't finish a statement, you can't finish that."

"You just did."

"Too late."

She squirmed free of the mental hold his hand currently had over her and turned herself around, leaning back and sighing contentedly when she felt her back come into contact with his chest.

As she slowly drifted back to sleep, the room fell comfortably silent. Steady breathing and feathery kisses applied to her shoulders on occasion took the place of words, eventually.

The stupid sheet aborted its mission and his skin roughed up hers while hers melted into his and they slept.


	6. vi

**He filled my days with endless wonder**

Severus' lips were twisted into a snarl, his hand making quick work of shoving hers away from the cauldron impatiently. She gave him a reproachful glare from behind a hunk of violently frizzed hair and withdrew her hand before he had a chance to be able to count himself as the sheer driving force of the action.

"Five more minutes, Granger," he growled, plucking the phial she had just held in her fingers from her. His eyes had become considerably less sunken, tarnishing somewhat the once-polished expression of malice he so liked pulling.

"Oh, so it's _Granger_ again, is it?"

A smile graced his lips for a brief moment before he nodded in concession.

"Five more minutes, _Hermione._"

Hermione settled with a curt nod of her own before returning her attention to the apparent cauldron of water beneath her. It was odorless, definitely- undoubtedly tasteless. It would have been colorless if not for the reflection of blue in the steaming liquid, too. She had been getting impatient and had overestimated the time, her excitement at even having a part in brewing such an advanced potion convincing her the hands of her watch were further ahead than they were. A full year seemed such an unnecessarily long time for a potion to brew, but for the help it provided perhaps it was worth it.

They were sitting beneath the shade of some forest tree or another, he leaned against its trunk and her cross-legged across from him. This had to have been the eighth or ninth place they'd stayed this summer. She propped her chin in her hand and glanced around, her foot starting to wiggle in anticipation as she attempted to refrain from counting the passing seconds.

Chancing a glance at Severus, Hermione couldn't help but smile. Despite all that had happened in the past year and all that was happening now, he still had enough of a hold on her that his presence was a comfort. It was a strange feeling to feel so inexorably connected to a man she had once seen as a negative force- her enemy, even. Once upon a time his lanky hair had seemed slick with grease rather than simply capable of catching light; once upon a time, she wouldn't have been able to tell simply by the cadence of his breathing whether he was displeased or amused.

"Done," he murmured more to himself than to her, his arm shooting out in one fluid motion to fill the phial she had previously held. A flick of his wand afterwards rendered the rest of the potion sent to wherever it was he may have wanted it, and that was that. The older wizard pocketed the bottle of clear liquid before returning to his position against the tree, looking as though he was content to sit there in silence.

Hermione wasn't having that.

"Come," she said simply, hauling herself off of the ground and extending a hand to him "we're going to walk."

"Why should I come walk, Granger?" Severus asked, incredulity playing at his features as he stretched out pointedly and allowed his eyes to close.

"_Hermione,"_ she growled, feeling indignation bubble up inside of her as she reached down to grab his hand and pull him up off of the ground roughly.

She watched with satisfaction as he glared at her, yanking his hand from hers and reaching down to readjust his robes before stalking through the needle-laden ground ahead of her.

"I thought we were going to walk, _Hermione_."

She could hear the sneer and feel the weakening anger flickering in the air between them. Sparing the situation a small smile, Hermione dashed forward and fell into step beside Severus.

"Cranky, aren't you?" she inquired, the question countered by her own hammed up jovial tone and the bounce in her step.

His robes brushed against her leg nearest to him, occasionally tangling around it and causing her to miss a step in her pattern. Did he really have to wear such billowing robes when it was just the two of them in one nowhere or another?

"Notably," the word was curt, but his tone suggested that this was by choice and not a signal of his mood.

Hermione chuckled and let her hand find its way into his, their fingers tangling automatically and resembling the exposed roots that covered the ground beneath them.

"But why ever would you be _cranky, _Severus? We're here- together- in this nice _peaceful_ forest and we've just finished brewing a _potion_ and despite your reluctance to admit it at this juncture _you quite like me_. I see nothing in this situation that should cause you any displeasure."

"I am 'cranky', Miss Granger," he started, turning on her quickly and starling her enough to send her back crashing into the nearest tree, "because I am here in this nice peaceful forest with a little girl who cannot keep her mouth shut."

Hermione grinned as he swept forward quickly, effectively pinning her to the tree with virtually no body weight and a fair amount of hipbones. She opened her mouth to speak but found his hand covering it.

"And," he continued, his voice on the verge of threatening, "I am _livid_, because I can yearn to be truly irritated with her all I want; and yet, some little something. . ." he trailed off, his eyes darkening as he leaned forward and his hooked nose skimmed along her jaw.

"Keeps me," a nip to the ear.

"From effectively," a growl.

She was shuddering at a nearly constant rate now, her arms twining around him in anticipation.

"Hating her," he finished simply.

With those last two words, the entire atmosphere that had been building since she had yanked him from the ground dissipated. Lust and irritation and want all seemed so far away now, and she shuddered again for entirely different reasons.

Severus drew his head back and Hermione flushed in embarrassment as his eyes raked over her face. Suddenly being stuck again this tree wasn't so fun anymore- while the mood had become gentle, she felt scrutinized.

"I love you, Hermione Granger," he spoke quietly but clearly and the words came out in one slow breath.

With that, he turned on his heels and continued walking along some invisible path through the dirt and needles covering the ground, his robes billowing behind him just as before.

Hermione rocked back and forth on her heels for a moment, stalling before running forward to take her place beside him again and this time remaining silent.

Severus Snape in love again.

Amazing.


End file.
